


Skin and Atmosphere

by boltschick2612



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Syracuse Crunch, Tampa Bay Lightning, ahl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:56:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltschick2612/pseuds/boltschick2612
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dustin finally gets what he wanted, but what if it doesn't want him back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin and Atmosphere

**Author's Note:**

> Written during the lockout when I was watching a lot of the Syracuse Crunch. (the Lightning's AHL affiliate). The Crunch were in Montreal not too long ago, playing at the Bell Centre, and for some reason, all I could think about was Dustin, standing outside in the cold, being all angsty. Also, I experimented with writing it in second person, focused on Dustin. So please enjoy it and let me know what you think? Thanks! Title from 36 Crazyfist's song by the same name.

You know you'll have to finally open the door and step inside, eventually. Everyone is expecting you, but that knowledge does absolutely nothing for you, and you just can't bring yourself to do it. The cold Montreal wind is whipping around you, howling in your ears and biting at your cheeks, turning them shades of red. The warmth inside the Bell Centre is only inches away, and you can almost feel it, radiating through the steel door as you press your frigid palm against it's smooth surface.

The down coat wrapped around you has never felt heavier on your body, it's almost like the weight of the world is pressing on your shoulders. You stand and watch your breath escape you in short bursts, hanging in the air as it leaves your body, warm and ragged. Your heart is racing, perhaps the only evidence that the blood hasn't frozen solid inside your veins.

Your fingers tremble around the ice cold steel of the doorhandle, the impulse to twist the knob rising and falling inside you like the tides. Another burst of wind brushes by you, howling with a voice that almost sounds human, and part of you thinks that maybe it is. Maybe it's telling you to go inside, escape the harsh, cold night, and bask in the warmth of the arena, surrounded by your team, your closest friends.

You silently damn the wind, wish it would either shut up or carry you away, just anything to make it stop howling in your ears, reminding you that outside is not where you should be. You can't open the door and venture down the halls leading to the locker room, though, because that's where  _he_  is, waiting for you, same as everyone else. They're all no doubt lacing up their skates, pulling on their jerseys, and wondering where you are. He may be doing the same things as all your other teammates, but he's not the same as them. 

There's a part of you that gets a little dizzy when you think of all the ways he's not like everyone else, not anymore. He started out the day as your best friend, same as he had been for years, but that all changed the second he slipped under the soft covers of your hotel bed. The second his bare skin brushed against yours, he became so much more than a friend, so much more than everyone else.

The afternoon had slipped by so fast, but you suppose you stopped keeping track of it the moment he sent a harsh whisper into the air, asking if you wanted him. You gave him your answer in the form of a passionate kiss, you couldn't find the words to tell him that he was exactly what you wanted, and had for some time.

Another gust of wind blows around you, ruffling your hair, and you can't help but think of the way his fingers raked through your strands as he hovered over you, eyes alight with passion. You can still taste him on your tongue, and feel his lips on yours. You slide your thumb along the inside of your wrist, remembering what it felt like as his teeth nipped at the delicate skin. His moans echo through your mind, his voice calling your name as he shuddered his sweet release, tensing around you until all you could do was close your eyes and let yourself fall over the edge.

Everything had seemed so simple in the light of day, but now the dark cloak of a cold night has descended, and nothing seemed simple anymore. How can you open that door, step inside, and face him? How can you look him in the eyes, and see what you're so sure will be regret?

You can't stay outside, not any longer, your thoughts are as frozen as your body. You know you'd perish if you stayed here, but only because you can't go one more second without standing in his presence.Your fingers, numb from the cold, twist around the handle. As the door slowly creeps open, the warmth from inside the building rushes out to greet you.

Stepping inside, your dress shoes loud against the concrete floor, your eyes are filled with the sight of the person that had been waiting on the other side of the door for you the whole time. Every single apprehension falls to the floor the second you see his face, his eyes flashing with bright white intensity, and his soft lips curved into a sly smile.

He extends his hand out to you, the same hand that only hours earlier had been caressing every curve of your naked body. You search his body, his posture, and find absolutely no signs of anything other than familiarity. His voice fills the air, and his hand doesn't move, but neither do you.

"C'mon, man. We've been waiting for you."

A few rapid blinks, and you're moving towards him, your legs weak. As he slides his arm around your shoulders, you relish in the now familiar feeling of his warm presence all around you. He leans closer, whispering in a tone low and heavy, and you instinctively know there's more meaning behind his words than what's floating on the surface.

"Glad you finally made it, I've been waiting for you. What took you so long?"


End file.
